


the dark's not taking prisoners tonight

by ironicallyinternational



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 2k, Banter, Captain America References, Developing Relationship, Humor, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Requested, Unspecified Setting, here we go again, lads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 10:55:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5663629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironicallyinternational/pseuds/ironicallyinternational
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Requested: "I very much enjoyed the night-talks between Scott and Stiles in your last fic, would you mind writing something else of the like?"</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>"Shut up and go to sleep." Scott said soothingly, as Stiles thrashed around (or attempted to do so, at least- werewolf strength came in handy sometimes).</p>
<p>"Wow," Stiles complained, once he'd resurfaced. "So this is how you alphas handle inquisitive spirits. By smothering them to death. Real classy."</p>
            </blockquote>





	the dark's not taking prisoners tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [Le noir ne fera pas de prisonniers ce soir](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6065647) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account)



> Another year, another Scott/Stiles fic. I did promise you one about two months ago, no? Relatively short (2k), but fun to write. Hope you enjoy!

Scott woke up slowly, bemused by the darkness around him.

He was about to react to the hand on his arm when the scent registered and his eyes grew accustomed to the dark.

  _Stiles._

 

"Stiles, wha-?" Scott yawned, squinting at his best friend. 

"The electricity turned off." Stiles whispered, rocking back on his heels. "It's kind of cold."

 Scott forced himself to wake up a bit, shuffling upwards.

"What're you doing here, then?" 

"I came to ask if you had a spare duvet." Stiles answered, shivering. "Lydia was the only one smart enough to bring one of those self-heating things, so."

"Can't you just share?" Scott asked.

There was a pause.

  

"Me. Share a bed. With Lydia." Stiles said, slowly. "Are you fucking insane?" 

Scott had to admit he could see his point.

"How come no one else is awake?"

They were all in the same ski chalet, after all. It would make sense for there to be other complaints. 

"Because everyone else is a supernatural creature?" Stiles retorted, bitingly.

Scott winced. "Right."

 

Stiles wasn't just shivering, he noticed now. He was shaking all over, teeth chattering as he spoke.

Tentatively, Scott pulled the covers off, then whistled. "It is cold. What temperature is it?"

"Minus one?" Stiles chattered, rubbing his arms. "Celsius, I mean." 

"Minus one?" Scott exclaimed, stunned. "Stiles, why didn't you say- you could get hypothermia!"

Stiles tried and failed to wave him away nonchalantly. His hands seemed rather too frozen to cooperate.

"Oh my god." Scott groaned. "Stiles, you i _dio_ t."

 

He ran a hand through his hair, worry gnawing at his insides, before reaching out and tugging Stiles closer. 

"You're freezing."

"More like slightly congealed." Stiles tried, teeth clacking against one another.

"Get in!" Scott barked, dragging him onto the bed a little too quickly.

Stiles nearly flew off the bed instead, and it was a testament to his current state that he didn't even complain that much.

 "What are you doing?!" Stiles sputtered, as Scott rolled him over. 

"C'mon. Get in." Scott answered, flinging the duvet over them both and tucking it in.

 

Stiles blinked.

"We're doing this." 

"What, would you rather freeze?" Scott asked, poking his arm. "Move closer."

 

Stiles' eyebrows shot up, but he really was cold, so he scooted over, close enough for Scott to tug him to him.

"Oh, Jesus, you're warm." Stiles said, half-blissful, the moment Scott had him pressed into his side.

"You're not." Scott grumbled, although he didn't really mind. Stiles was soft and human and familiar.

 

He was still shivering, though, so Scott wrapped them up more tightly and threw an arm around Stiles' shoulders to reel him in.

"Are we really doing the cuddling thing?" Stiles protested, but he still stuck his icy feet between Scott's legs.

"Unless you prefer the hypothermia thing, then yeah." Scott yawned, resisting the urge to bury his face in Stiles' hair. 

They were basically cuddling, now; Scott holding Stiles to him, Stiles' head in the crook of Scott's arm, Stiles' feet between his legs.

It was pretty damn comfortable.

 

Stiles wriggled, almost digging himself more deeply into Scott's side as he impulsively flung an arm over his waist. For a moment Scott almost drifted back to sleep, eyes falling shut in the blissful quiet. 

"Are all werewolves this warm, or does it like depend on ranking?" Stiles asked, muffled, curled up by his side. 

"Pretty sure we're all the same." Scott answered, honestly. "Haven't cuddled enough werewolves to know." 

Stiles snorted, opening his eyes. Scott could see them glint even in the dark.

"Here I thought you could determine heat levels by smelling people."

"I can't smell heat." Scott replied, indulgently.

"But you can smell when people are in heat." Stiles leered, pleased by Scott's lack of wariness.

Scott blinked, flushed, and flicked Stiles' forehead. Dick. 

"We are not doing this again."

"Do you deny it though?" Stiles pressed, smug. "Do you?"

"Yes, I do." Scott harrumphed. "I absolutely do."

"Really." Stiles drawled. "'S that why you mysteriously vanish every time I'm about to be scarred by old people sex?"

"Derek is not old." Scott snorted, shaking his head.

"Ha!" Stiles crowed, triumphantly. "See? You don't even bother denying it."

"Jesus." Scott sighed, hiding his laughter in Stiles' hair.

"Nah," Stiles shrugged. "Just me." 

Scott closed his eyes. Stiles' heartbeat was a loud, steady, rapid thump-thump-thump in his ears, his body a familiar lean build under Scott's arm.

 

"You're not _just_ anything." Scott informed him, trying to sound less fondly enamored with this skinny mass of limbs and tousled hair. 

Stiles' eyes went wide open, and his pulse sped up.

Scott pretended not to know these things.

"Shut up." Stiles tried, a little uneven. And then, because he was Stiles, in a Regina George impersonation: "Shut up."

Scott grinned up at the ceiling, dumbly.

Stiles' jab earlier hadn't left him unaffected, though. Scott was usually only dimly aware of his heightened senses, when there was no threat. When someone pointed them out to him, well... 

It was like someone noticing a weird freckle on your cheek. You didn't ever think about it before, and suddenly it was all you could think about.

Now, his metaphorical freckle was clouding his thoughts, senses making him acutely aware of Stiles' pulse and breathing and shape.

Admittedly, it might have affected him a bit to be able to hear all these things so clearly; Stiles vulnerable and content to be so as he lied next to him. Scott spent so much time trying not to hurt people, these days- not worrying about it was more than he felt he duly deserved.

 And it was also kind of hot. So.

 

Scott cleared his throat, curling his fingers in and out, trying to think of something else.

"What?" Stiles asked, suspicious. "Why are you being twitchy?"

"No reason." 

"Stop lying."

"I'm just uncomfortable."

"Why?"

"I don't do well with cuddling, I guess."

"Sure. And I'm madly in love with Coach."

"Are you?"

"Funny."

Stiles gave him a kick at that, unamused, as Scott swallowed.

"What is it really?"

"It's...a werewolf thing." Scott mumbled.

"Like, dangerous werewolf thing?" Stiles inquired, warily.

 Scott felt a bit offended.

"No, like an awkward awareness thing." And then, for good measure: "Dick."

"Oh." Stiles huffed. "Well, that's fine."

"For you, maybe." Scott grumbled, really battling the instinct telling him to use Stiles' hair as a pillow. 

"As long as you don't get a were-boner from it, it's cool." Stiles warned, maybe a bit anxiously.

"Oh my fucking god." Scott managed, incapable of saying anything else.

"What?!" Stiles protested, jabbing a finger at his ribs. "You said it was an awkward werewolf thing! Maybe werewolves have a second puberty, how should I know?"

"I cannot believe you just said the word "were-boner" to my face." Scott groaned, ignoring the rebuttal. 

"What else am I supposed to say? Furry dong?!" Stiles exclaimed, although Scott could sense the amused edge to his mock offense.

"I try to be a good person. I don't deserve this." Scott proclaimed, mournfully. 

"Lies. You are a terrible person." Stiles objected, yawning as he somehow rolled even more closely into Scott's side. "For example, you made me share a room with Isaac."

"There was no one else to room him with!" Scott objected. "Derek was taken, and Liam isn't here, and the girls..."

"Sure, and you get the nice big empty room." Stiles drawled. "Why could you and I not have shared a room, huh?"

"...You have a point." Scott conceded. "I may have forgotten I was also coming on the trip."

 "Oh my god. Stop." Stiles whined. "I'm trying to make you look bad. Stop acting perfect."

"It's natural, I'm sorry." Scott smiled, shaking his head at Stiles' nonsense. For a moment, his friend actually remained quiet, and then….

 

 "Were-boner." Stiles muttered, spitefully.

Scott scowled, ears turning red. 

"I will resort to intimidation. I'm not joking."

"Weeeere-boner."

"Stiles."

 "Weeeeeeeere-boner."

"Stiles, no."

"Weeeeeeeeeeeeere-boneeeeeer."

 Scott growled, actually growled, and felt the pang of exhilaration and fear go through Stiles.

"...Bully."

"Go to sleep, Stiles." Scott sighed, contentedly, even as he tried not to take in Stiles' current feelings and emotions.

 

It was difficult.

They were very strong.

Scott gritted his teeth and resolved to ignore them. It wasn't as though Stiles was aware of what he was doing. 

Wait.

" _Stiles Stilinski_ ," Scott began, "You better not be doing what I think you're doing."

"Doing what?" Stiles yawned, confused.

His heartbeat had sped up. Liar.

God, Scott thought, with feeling. Fucking Stiles.

"You sick son of a bitch." Scott mustered, begrudgingly impressed. 

Stiles snickered. Scott could sense the smugness radiating off him even without looking for it, and was hit by a very strong desire to kiss the smirk away.

Rewind- what?

Oh, shit. Not this again.

 

"Don't need werewolf senses to detect your pulse speeding up." Stiles pointed out, tapping his fingers on Scott's chest. 

Scott squeezed his eyes shut. "No," he managed tersely, "I don't suppose you do."

"What's that about, then?" Stiles inquired, almost friendly.

Scott was not fooled.

"Let me sleep in peace, dude."

 "Did you just "dude" me to get me to lay off?" Stiles demanded, scandalized. "I cannot believe."

"Stiles, for fuck's sake."

"You know what's a great alternative to shutting up?" Stiles continued mercilessly, grin audible. "Spitting it out."

Scott groaned. "No."

"Okay, sure, but have you considered: yes?"

 At that, Scott flicked him in the face, only a little too hard.

 

They hadn't been talking about the Thing. The Thing had happened in near death circumstances- Scott's official reason had been that Stiles had been traumatized (and so had he, but that was less important), and so his lack of judgment was to be excused. Unofficially, well, they were just too awkward to talk about it, probably. 

Except right now, apparently. Hypothermia worked wonders on Stiles' self-esteem, who would've guessed?

"Why don't you take a guess?" he countered, keeping his eyes shut.

Stiles squirmed, his free arm shuffling around on the bed. "Stop evading the question."

 "I'll answer if you guess right." Scott told him, changing tactics with half a smile.

Now the scowl was audible in Stiles' grumbled reply.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"I said, you're a dick."

"Right."

"Fine!" Stiles exclaimed melodramatically. "You're having a moment because my presence gives you a were-boner in your heart."

Scott was too disturbed to be awkward.

"....You're a vile, sick little creature."

"Better that than facing embarrassment." Stiles countered, stretching.

"I'm in shock. I might not recover from this one."

"Be strong, Scott. Be strong for mother." 

"Stiles, you broke me. Congratulations."

"I do try."

"You disgust me."

"I love you too," Stiles sing-songed, finally cracking Scott up.

 

When they'd finished giggling, he managed an: "Ew, man. Just...ew." 

"Can you even get a boner while you're a werewolf?" Stiles questioned, before choking on the pillow Scott had slammed into his face.

"No. We are not discussing this."

"Mffghhhg!?!" Stiles demanded indignantly.

"Shut up and go to sleep." Scott said soothingly, as Stiles thrashed around (or attempted to do so, at least- werewolf strength came in handy sometimes).

"Wow," Stiles complained, once he'd resurfaced. "So this is how you alphas handle inquisitive spirits. By smothering them to death. Real classy."

"Quiet, puny mortal." Scott laughed, giving up on his previous struggle and burying his nose in Stiles' unbelievably fluffy hair.

"Don't Avengers your way out of this," Stiles protested, "You think you're being cute and curbing my annoyance and you totally are but that's not the point."

"Please tell me no one kissed me." Scott continued, in a fairly good Robert Downey Junior impersonation.

 "Not for lack of trying," Stiles sighed.

"It would've been a very different ending if Cap had actually answered that." Scott mused, entertained. 

"Uh uh, bro. Cap plus Bucky forever." Stiles interjected, offended. "Tony has Pepper already."

"Cap and Bucky? Really? Aren't they best friends?" Scott questioned, raising a brow. "And didn't Cap have a sort of girlfriend early on- you know, the badass with the dark hair?"

"Just because they're best friends and Cap had a dark-haired badass girlfriend doesn't mean it's not real," Stiles muttered. "Maybe for once the All-American hero realizes he's bisexual and that his angsty, troubled, less attractive best friend is worth a shot."

"...I'm Latino." Scott countered, after a beat. "Also I'm equally depressed. Just more stoic."

"Wow, way to disrupt the metaphor, Scott," Stiles groaned. "Also, don't make life more difficult. I'm pretending you're okay."

"I'm pretending you're okay," Scott shot back. "...Would Kira or Allison be Peggy?"

"How come you remember her name all of a sudden?" Stiles asked suspiciously, before continuing: "Either way, Peggy's lost to Cap forever due to a tragic event, so I guess that makes her Allison?"

"Wow. Morbid." Scott sighed, a pang going through him at the thought of her.

 

 

Stiles remained silent, perhaps guiltily, until Scott prodded him with his nose.

"Well, anyway. I'm sure Cap and Bucky are canon behind the scenes." Stiles mumbled. "They just don't know it yet."

"They probably do," Scott replied. "Maybe they haven't talked about it much."

And then, pointedly: "Maybe it doesn't need much talking about, after all this time."

"Maybe." Stiles allowed, fiddling with the hem of Scott's shirt. "Although honestly Cap could've made a move by now, seeing as he's basically flawless."

"Cap's hardly flawless," Scott smiled wearily. "I doubt he’d be about to jump Bucky, either way. What if he thought Bucky was with Black Widow, or Darcy or something?"

"Black Widow doesn't need a man," Stiles announced, "And Bucky was kind of a dick to her way back when, so." He paused. "Also I have no clue who Darcy's supposed to be here."

"Malia, obviously."

"Malia is Darcy? What the fuck? Malia would be, like, Lady Sif." Stiles exclaimed.

"Lady Sif is waaaay out of Bucky's league." Scott snorted.

 "Wow, rude." Stiles sniffed. "Don't insult my metaphorical other self."

"See, Bucky doesn't exactly make this easy for Cap either."

"Cap can handle it."

"Mh. Probably." Scott yawned, shifting and pulling Stiles with him. "If Bucky lets him."

"Bucky would. Till the end of the line, pal." Stiles replied, not protesting the reinforced cuddling. "Remember?"

"Yeah, that's not exactly the kind of thing you forget." Scott hummed, with half a smile. "Would Bucky mind putting it off until the morning, though?"

 "Nah," Stiles yawned. "I think Bucky'd be pretty okay with that, actually."

"Cool."

"Warm."

"Shut up, Stilinski."

"Aye aye, Cap."

 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, disclaimer: I've never watched TW and merely second-hand watch it on tumblr. Hopefully I haven't butchered the characters too badly; please feel free to rage in the comments if necessary. Reviews are eternally welcomed, and I'm joignable at quidfree.tumblr.com.


End file.
